


Unrequited Too

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Series: Magnificent Seven (TV) - Comfort's Bed [8]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Metafiction, Old West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin's dreams take another unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unrequited Too

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Seven Card Stud #4, and then in the standalone novel Comfort's Bed.
> 
> This is part of a larger metafiction that includes the Old West and ATF Denver AU worlds. There are dreams within dreams, realities within realities,but it all works out in the end as a Chris/Vin world, so be warned if you prefer a different paring.

 A sequel to "Unrequited."

 

          Vin Tanner sat up in his wagon and ran a shaky hand over his eyes.  It was happening again, and he just didn't know what to do about it.  For the last few months the lustful dreams had been haunting his nights, leaving him weak and spent in the mornings.

But in the dreams Vin wasn't himself, he was watching the mind stories play out through the eyes of Chris Larabee.  And the Chris of his dreams was struggling with his hidden desire for Vin, the same way the waking Tanner was struggling with his all too real desires for the gunman. It was all too confusing for the tracker, who was used to being able to follow signs to their conclusion.  But there was no path to follow this time.

In the dream world Larabee's and Tanner's desires became somewhat conflated.  Vin watched the dream-Chris imagining that Vin was spending his nights lying with Buck, and Ezra, and Josiah.  None of which was true in the waking world they all really inhabited.

But the desires the dream-Chris and the waking-Tanner felt were the same.  And in both cases, the two men didn't know what the hell to do about their feelings.

          If only the real Chris felt like his dream self, the situation would have an easy answer, but Tanner was certain that wasn't the case, and he was too cowardly to come right out and ask the gunman.

          But _something_ had to be done.  The images that filled his nights – images of him lying with Buck, with Ezra, with Josiah, images seen through the dream-Chris's lusting eyes – were too much for the tracker.

And worse still were the images of the dream-Chris being driven to confess his desires for him… his wanting him… his loving him… and, Lord have mercy on him, taking him.

          Vin moaned loudly and dropped back down on his bedroll.  Why in the world was he having these damn dreams?

Why couldn't he just make them stop?

          He felt the cold dampness of another late night ejaculation, and cursed softly.  He really had to get some control back, somehow.  He couldn't let this continue.  He was, quite simply, going to drive himself mad if this went on much longer.

But he wanted, so badly, for his dreams to come true.  And he was quickly coming to care less and less which one of them it turned out to be.

          But that wasn't really true, and he knew it.  He did care.  He cared very much.  Too much.

It was Chris he wanted in his bed, not Buck, or Ezra, or even Josiah.  Although he wondered if their love, their friendship, their bodies might not help him at least stop thinking about Chris all of the time.  But he doubted it.

He sighed heavily and moaned.

          Maybe he needed to get good and drunk and just tell Chris how he felt; get it over with.

          No.  No, that was too dangerous.  What if Larabee told him to leave?  Get the hell out, would probably be more like it.  And he couldn't.

          No, he couldn't take that kind of a chance, because he couldn't lose Chris, couldn't lose what he shared with the man now.

          So, what did that leave?  Turn to one of the others, like he had in his dreams?  But he didn't have any real hope that Buck, Ezra, or Josiah would respond to such a suggestion like they had in his dreams.  They might react just as badly as he expected Chris would.  And if Larabee found out he'd asked them?

          That was something he didn't want to think about.

          But _something_ had to be done.  He wasn't getting enough sleep, and that was making him sluggish and addle-headed.  And almost worse, the lack of sleep meant that his thoughts were drifting, usually to the dreams and what happened in them, and whenever that happened, he found himself getting aroused.  It was only a matter of time before he got caught in that proddy state, and then what was he going to say?

          He groaned and wished he could just pack up his gear and head out for a few days in the hills.  But there had been several outbreaks of trouble between the ranchers and the farmers and townsfolk, so he couldn't leave, not until that was settled, and that left him feeling trapped.  That and the damned haunting dreams that seemed to tap his every fantasy.

          "Ah hell," Vin moaned, scrubbing his hands over his face and wishing he could allow himself to cry, but he'd given that up too many years ago to remember.

          The best he could do now was what he'd been doing for the past several weeks: surrender to the dreams and let them take him wherever they wanted to.  At least he got some release that way.

And so Vin closed his eyes and willed himself back into the tumult of the abyss where his desires held sway…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris stalked down the boardwalk.  He knew he had to do something, and soon.  He was as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof, and twice as nasty.  The rest of the peacekeepers had pulled back, giving him plenty of space.  Everyone except Vin Tanner, that is, and it was the damn tracker who was the root of Larabee's problem to begin with.

          To put it plainly, he was randy.  Proddy.  Horny.  Needed a good fuck.  But he wasn't interested in buying a night with a whore, not even with Maria down in Purgatorio.  What he wanted was Tanner.  He wanted to take the man up to his room, or, better yet, out to his shack, pull his clothes off and—

          He stopped the thoughts dead in their tracks.  Couldn't happen.  No use thinking about it.  It just made him more randy… more tense… more snappish.

          And if he didn't get his attitude adjusted soon, it was just a matter of time before one of the others just shot him dead to put the rest of them out of their misery.

And when that happened, he would be grateful to whoever it was who did the deed.  God, would he be grateful.  It couldn't happen soon enough.

          Tanner.  Shit.  There he was, sitting on one of the two chairs out on the boardwalk in front of the saloon.  Relaxed, that described the tracker best, Vin was slouched in the chair, legs stretched out in front of him, arms folded over his chest, chin down, blue eyes hidden under the brim of his slouch hat.  The man's long brown hair fell to his shoulders, wavy, and streaked with honey gold.

          Larabee wanted to reach out and drive his fingers into that hair, curl it up into his fist, and jerk Tanner's head back so he could taste his lips….

          "Shit," Larabee hissed.  He almost stopped, turned around, and headed in the opposite direction, but he knew the tracker was aware of his approach and would no doubt come after him to see what was wrong if he did that.

          Larabee smiled, his steps slowing.  Maybe that was _exactly_ what he needed to do.

          He stopped, hesitating for a moment as he considered his chances for success, but he was beyond caring.  He had to do something and this was as good an idea as any he'd come up with.

He turned and started away, feeling rather than hearing or seeing Tanner rise and start after him, but he never slowed, or looked back to be sure.

Heading directly to the livery, he saddled his horse, swung up into the saddle, and rode straight out of town.

          A few minutes later he caught sight of Tanner, trailing behind him at a safe distance.  At first Chris thought he'd lead Tanner back to his cabin, but then he changed his mind.  He wanted to ensure that they had some privacy, and he knew he had everything he'd need in his saddlebags, so he turned his gelding west and headed for the small abandoned line shack in the hills.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Two hours later, Larabee reached a small structure.  He tied his horse to one of the mesquite trees growing next to the small, one-room shack and, taking his saddlebags with him, went inside.

He heard Tanner ride up a few minutes later.

          When Vin opened the door to the shack, Larabee was waiting for him, his Colt in his hand.  "Come inside," he ordered, "and shut the door."

          Tanner said nothing, but stepped inside, closing the door behind him.  Then he turned and faced the gunslinger again.

          "Take 'em off," Larabee ordered thickly, his cock already beginning to fill.  And when Tanner just stood there, looking at him, clearly confused, he added, "Your clothes.  Take them off."

          Tanner's blue eyes rounded slightly, but he pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the small table.  His hide coat was next, then his boots, socks, shirt, and pants.  He hesitated a moment, his gaze shifting to the Colt still in Larabee's hand before he unbuttoned his long johns and stepped out of them as well.

          Seeing the tracker naked sent a shockwave rumbling through Larabee.  The gunman licked his lips, his gaze riveted on the tracker's cock, which was larger than he had guessed.  He took a step closer to the tracker, putting him close enough to the man to feel the heat coming off his body.  His own cock began to throb painfully, wanting free of its confinement.

          Glancing down, Chris's gaze traced along the long, fat pink shaft, following a blue vein until he reached the ridge of Tanner's cock head, still buried inside his foreskin.  The half-hard poker swayed slowly between them.

          He took a step back again and jerked his head toward a chair.  "Sit down."

          Without a word Tanner walked over and sat down, his gaze never leaving Larabee's.

          Chris waited until the tracker was seated, then walked around behind the man and pulled the leather thong out from where he'd tucked it under his gun belt.  He deftly tied the tracker's hands to the chair behind him.  That done, Chris returned his Colt to its holster, unbuckled his gun belt, and walked over to set it on the table next to Vin's hat.  He reached into his saddlebags, which also lay there, and removed what he knew he would need.

          That done, he turned and walked back to stand in front of the tracker.

          Tanner sat still, blue eyes still watching Larabee placidly.  The gunman stopped in front of him, leaned forward and, his hands on Vin's knees, pulled the man's legs open.

          Larabee ran his hands up the insides of Vin's thighs, feeling the hard muscles tremble under his fingertips.  Dropping down on one knee, he leaned in, burying his nose in the soft fleshiness of Vin's ball sack and inhaling deeply.  A scent of musk and fresh sweat filled his nostrils, flowing into his lungs.  The scent was strong and heady, giving him the courage to continue.

          Chris pressed his lips against the loose folds of the fleshy pouch and tongued it, sucking one ball, and another, into his mouth.  Vin gasped, his hips jerking, which rubbed his cock over Larabee's face.

          Jerking back, the gunman reached out and tilted the tracker's hips back, exposing the pink pucker of his ass, which sent another rush of desire coursing through his cock.

          Leaning in again, Larabee slid his tongue up the thick shaft and looked up, meeting the blue eyes as he reached up and squeezed Tanner's nipples.  When there was no reaction from the tracker, Chris squeezed harder and pressed his tongue into the small slit on the man's cock head, tasting the drop of precome that dribbled out and slide into his mouth.

          Larabee nibbled down the shaft until his chin was pressed against Tanner's balls.  And, suddenly, he was bobbing over the tracker's cock, taking Vin into his mouth, his throat, with long, deep strokes.

He could feel Tanner's cock widen at the base each time it slid down Chris's throat and looked up into the blue eyes.  The tracker was regarding him calmly as he began to push his hips up to fuck the gunman's face.

Wanting to break that calmness, Larabee stopped and stood.  He pulled off his own clothes, his cock finally springing free.  Stepping up to the bound tracker, he bent over and ground his lips against Vin's.

When he needed to breathe, Larabee pulled back and stepped in-between Tanner's knees, his cock pointing straight up at the man's face.

"Take it," Larabee ordered, reaching out to pull the tracker's head down and pressing the head of his cock to Tanner's lips, which opened.

Chris pushed his way into the tracker's hot mouth, fucking him.  He closed his eyes and moaned as Tanner's lips and tongue slid over his cock.

He shoved his fingers into the man's long hair, curling them into a fist and jerking Vin's head farther down as he continued to fuck his face.

Tanner pressed his lips tightly around Larabee's shaft, twisting his head from side to side, sucking the gunslinger off with what felt like genuine enthusiasm.

Chris arched his back, his eyes tight shut, as he felt himself being pulled closer to orgasm.  He jerked Vin's head back up before he shot.  "Enough," he growled.

Stepping back, he grabbed the small tin he'd left setting on the table and turned back to Tanner.  Walking behind the man, he untied him and jerked him to his feet.  He forced him over to the small bed that took up one wall of the shack.  Pushing him down, Chris opened the tin and dug out a thick dollop of the oily balm inside, which he rubbed onto his aching cock.

Then he dug out a second dollop and pushed it into the crack of Tanner's ass, one finger pressing the majority of it into the tight pucker.

Vin grunted and jerked on the bed, but Chris refused to stop, driving his finger all the way inside the tracker's hot, tight passage, spreading the balm into the tracker.  He pulled his finger out, rubbing over the opening several times before he sank two fingers back into the passage.

This time Tanner gasped, struggling a little harder, but not so hard that Larabee had to stop shoving his fingers in and out of that hot embrace to hold him in place.  And every time the tracker jerked, his own cock twitched wildly in response.

He had to get inside the man, now, before he shot his load just watching his fingers sliding in and out of that tight, hot passage.

Climbing onto the bed between Tanner's legs, he reached out and grabbed the tracker's hips, hauling his ass up, the head of his cock meeting the pucker in an intimate kiss.  And, holding those hips tightly, Larabee pumped hard, sinking the head of his cock into that velvet heat.

"Ah shit," Larabee hissed, afraid he was going to lose it and come right there.

He let go of Vin's hip with one hand, grabbing the base of his own cock and squeezing hard, stopping his orgasm.  Beneath him, Tanner trembled and shook, his breath coming in short, harsh pants.

When Chris was sure he wouldn't come as soon as he moved, he grabbed both of those narrow hips a second time and forced himself inside the man deeper.  The sensations that assaulted him were nearly overwhelming.  Tanner was so hot and so tight he was squeezing every inch of Larabee's buried cock, and the gunman simply couldn't stop plowing ahead until he was completely sheathed in that incredibly intimate embrace.

He stopped when he had crammed every inch of his cock up the tracker's ass, willing his impending orgasm to wait once more.

For his part, Vin continued to shake, sweat rolling down his back and over his ribs, dripping onto the bed.

Sliding his hand along the tracker's body, Chris reached under Vin, grabbing his cock, which was now full and extremely hard.  He rubbed along the shaft, the balm on his hand making it easy to stroke the man smoothly.

Vin responded, his hips jerking in small, tight moves that did amazing things to Chris's cock.

Releasing Vin's prod, Larabee grabbed the tracker's hips again, pulled out halfway, and rammed back in.

"Aaggh!" Tanner cried, his head and back arching, his muscles tightening around Larabee's cock like a fist.

"Yes," Chris hissed, doing it again… and again.

Tanner moaned, his head dropping back down, his fingers curling into fists as the gunslinger plowed into his ass over and over.

Chris's gaze was locked on his cock, watching as he disappeared into Vin's core again and again.  He squeezed the man's hips, pulling Tanner up higher, allowing him to plunge in a little deeper.

And then it was as if Vin had suddenly gone wild, driving his hips back, grinding his ass against the gunman in furious abandon.

Chris let himself go, thrusting into the tracker with equal lack of inhibition, his hand once more seeking out Tanner's cock, jerking on it until Vin was shooting, screaming Chris's name as he did.

And it was the sound of his name coming off Vin's lips, so full of need, of passion, that forced Chris over the edge and he stabbed as far into the tracker as he could, a scream of his own tearing loose as he began to pump his seed deep into the man's core.

His orgasm continued, breaking over him in great, shuddering waves, and when they finally stopped he collapsed over Tanner's sweat-soaked back, gasping for breath.

As soon as he could, he pushed himself up, raining soft kisses on the tracker's shoulders as he carefully pulled his semi-hard cock free of the man's ass.

They both collapsed onto the bed, Chris gathering Vin into his arms and kissing him….

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin jerked awake, sweat pouring off his face, his hand wrapped tightly around his own cock, which was still pumping his seed over his fingers.  He shuddered, recalling the feel of Larabee buried inside of him, moving inside of him, and that forced another rush of come dribbling over his fingers.

          And then he moaned.  What was wrong with him?  What was he thinking?  Chris forcing himself on him?  But he had wanted it.  He had wanted it so badly.

          What the hell was he going to do?

          Having no answers, he forced himself to get up and get dressed.  The others would be expecting him at the saloon for breakfast.  He'd just have to push the thoughts away during the day – if he could.

          He sighed.  At least he could have Chris in his dreams, and for now, that would just have to be enough.  It might always have to be enough.

 

[The Chris/Vin arc continues in "To Comfort's Bed."]

 

 

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